Terry took the bullet from Nancy’s hand and gave a low whistle of astonishment. “It’s been years since I’ve seen one of these.”
“Do you recognize it?” Nancy asked.
“I don’t think I could forget this if I tried,” Terry said grimly. “It’s from a Colt .45 1911-A1. We used them in ’Nam. But whoever fired it must have used a silencer. The only thing we heard was the sound of the tire blowing.”
Nancy felt a chill run through her. “I’d say the man in the red car didn’t want you to follow him. This may sound crazy, but did Nick Finney have light hair?”
“No,” Terry answered, smiling at the memory. “Nick had fire-red hair. He was a little guy, no taller than you, but you couldn’t miss him. In the field he always wore a hat or a bandanna. Otherwise, the enemy would have seen him miles away. In fact, he became very good at concealing himself.”
Nancy pictured the light-haired man she saw in the car. Hair color can change, she thought, but the man behind the wheel had looked as if he had a large, solid build. If only she’d been able to get a better look.
Terry and Nancy returned to the house, where they found Bess and George in the kitchen, eating breakfast with Amy.
“We know what caused the blowout yesterday,” Nancy said, showing them the bullet.
Bess choked on her oatmeal. “Someone shot out the tire?”
“It must have been whoever broke into the house,” George said. “What about the man in the red car?”
“That’s who I think it was,” Nancy agreed. “But we still don’t know what he was after. Or whether or not he actually found it.”
Terry called the police again, to tell them about the bullet, and then called his insurance company. Finally he turned to his guests. “Look,” he said, “when I invited you to stay here, my house had been broken into twice. But there weren’t any guns or knives involved. Now things seem to be getting more dangerous. I’m not even sure Amy and I should be here. I think I should find you another place to stay.”
Nancy’s eyes met those of her friends. There was no question in her mind what George would say. She’d never known George to back off from a case. But Bess wasn’t quite as brave, and Nancy didn’t want to ask her friend to stay in a place that frightened her.
Bess met Nancy’s gaze and then looked at Terry and Amy. “I think,” she said, “that this is the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen, and I’m not going to let anyone scare me out of it.”
“All right, Bess!” Amy cheered.
Terry raised his eyes up. “Okay,” he said. “For now we all stay. But I don’t like feeling as if I’m living in the middle of a target range. If anything else happens, I’m moving everyone to safer ground.”
Later that afternoon, while Terry went to the police station to give them the bullet, Nancy, Bess, George, and Amy sat on the beach at Cherry Creek. Bess was working on her tan, and George and Amy were sorting through a collection of sand dollars. Nancy stared out at the Pacific, her mind still on the case. She was startled when Amy asked, “You’re thinking about the break-ins, aren’t you?”
Nancy helped herself to some of Bess’s sunscreen. “How’d you guess?”
“I figured you were thinking about them because I am, too,” Amy said.
“And?” Nancy asked, intrigued.
“And I’ve been thinking that every time our house was broken into, my dad and I were out.”
“Thank goodness!” Bess exclaimed.
“Well, it was safer for us that way, but it means that someone’s been watching the house,” Amy said.
“And maybe still is,” Nancy finished grimly.
Bess sat up straight. “Do you mean whoever broke in knows we’re staying there?”
“He did see us drive up yesterday,” George reminded her.
“I wonder how closely he was watching,” Nancy said thoughtfully. “Unless someone else shot out the tire, the blond-haired man must have heard Terry’s car approach, concealed himself in the woods, shot out the tire, and then made his getaway. And it all happened pretty quickly.” She gave Bess a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. If he is still watching the house, there may be a way we can turn the tables on him.”
The girls returned to the house and saw that Terry’s van had been pulled out of the ravine and the tire replaced. “Perfect,” Nancy said. “Now if we can get Terry to cooperate, I think my plan will work.”
Nancy found Terry in his studio, carefully molding a lead frame in the shape of a willow tree. “How was the beach?” he asked.
“Gorgeous,” Nancy replied. “And so is that.” She nodded toward his work. “Do you think I could convince you to leave the studio for a while?”
“Right now?” Terry asked reluctantly.
“If your house is still being watched by the thief, I want to set a trap,” she explained. “But I’ll need your help.”
An hour later Terry, Amy, George, and Bess drove off. Sitting beside Terry in the van’s front seat was a dressmaker’s dummy they had found in the attic. The dummy wore a blond wig and Nancy’s pale blue crewneck sweater. From a distance it looked like Nancy.
Nancy waited until they’d gone. She knew that if someone did break in again, remaining inside the house would be dangerous. So she very carefully let herself out through the door from Terry’s studio. Then Nancy made her way through the trees so she could watch the house. Perched on a boulder beneath a majestic redwood, she began her stakeout.
The only sounds she heard were the wind chimes that hung from the house and, in the distance, the Pacific breaking against the shore.
Waiting has got to be the most boring part of detective work, Nancy thought. And yet she knew she had to be patient. Occasionally she heard cars on the paved road, but none of them turned onto Terry’s drive. The sun began to go down, and the air became cooler. Nancy began to shiver a little. She was still wearing the shorts and T-shirt she’d worn to the beach. And she was getting hungry. She drew her knees up to her chest and held herself close. And continued to wait.
A glimmer of movement at the edge of her vision made her start. Was it a deer? Or was someone watching her? Except for the birds calling, the woods were silent. Nancy decided to investigate. Carefully she moved through the trees, all her senses alert. She reached the spot where she thought she’d seen something. There were only trees and brush. Then something caught her eye—a torn scrap of flannel snagged on a prickly bush.
Nancy removed the plaid flannel from the bush. Someone had been here, she thought, her eyes sweeping the woods. From the spot where she stood she had a perfect view of the boulder she’d been sitting on. Someone had not only been here—he’d been watching her.
Nancy jumped as she heard a vehicle turning onto Terry’s drive. Her heart began to race. As it approached, she realized it was Terry’s van. He’d promised to return in two hours. The time was up.
The van pulled up in front of the house. “Any luck?” Terry called.
